


Saved

by Smokeycut



Series: Cassandra Cain Adoption Fics [3]
Category: Batman - Fandom
Genre: Adoption, Found Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 18:56:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12238737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smokeycut/pseuds/Smokeycut
Summary: Cassandra asks Clayface to help her write a card for Batman. If she could only work up the courage to give it to him.





	Saved

**Author's Note:**

> Posted this on tumblr a while back, but only just decided to post it here as well.

It was a simple request. It was a very difficult undertaking.

“Will you… help?” Cassandra asked, looking down at the pen and paper in her hands. She was shaking ever so slightly, terrified of what could happen.

“Hm? Yeah, sure Cass. What d'ya need me to help with?” Basil asked in turn.

“Words. I don’t…” she clenched her hands tight, crinkling the paper’s edge. Everyone knew that she couldn’t read or write, but that didn’t make asking for help any easier. Admitting that she needed help, that she wasn’t capable on her own, it took far more bravery than jumping into a fight.

“Ah, gotcha,” Basil said with a reassuring smile. His form shifted as he pulled clay in, shrinking until he was the height of an average man. Mud became hair, skin, clothes and teeth, and soon a normal man was smiling at her. One who nobody would recognize as a former supervillain. One who she recognized as her friend, from pictures and movies from before his accident. He reached out, and she put the pen and paper in his hands, before taking a seat at the belfry’s table. Basil set the objects down on the table as he sat next to her, pushing the pen in her direction. “You write, I’ll help.”

Cassandra looked at him, the anxiety she felt clear on her face from just a glance. Still, she took it in her right hand, and brought it to the center of the paper.

“What do you want it to say?” Basil asked.

“It’s, um, it’s for… Batman,” Cassandra told him, pausing as she looked for the next words. “Want… thank him.”

“Ah. Well, here, how about you tell me the words, and I’ll guide you?” He offered, along with a gentle, reassuring smile.

She nodded, then concentrated. “Thank you… saving…” she paused, and brought a finger up to her mouth, pulling at her lower lip as she thought. “Soul. Saving… my soul.”

Basil said nothing at first, thinking about what must have happened between Cass and Batman. She had been a hero for only a few months before Batman and Batwoman approached him, and even now, Basil didn’t know the story of how she met them. It wasn’t a story to ask about now, however, and so he pushed the thought away.

“Here, we’ll start with a T. Just make a line going down…” he explained, guiding her hand downwards, then guiding it again as she crossed the letter with a shaking hand. They continued onto an H, then an A, and so on. Her handwriting, even with his arm guiding her’s, was hardly legible, but that was to be expected. Even as he told her about the letters, she didn’t understand how they corresponded to the words, nor would she remember them in just a few hours. She was grateful all the same, for helping her find a way to express how she felt in a way her mentor could understand.

The simple task took them nearly half an hour to finish, but she was feeling better by the end of it. She hugged Basil tight, squishing his chest into mud again and making him laugh. He patted her on the back as they looked at her handiwork.

“How’s it feel? Getting it out?” He asked.

“Good,” Cassandra answered. “Feel good.” She picked up the piece of paper, folded it, and put it in an empty pocket of her utility belt.

—

Bruce looked down and across the street, to the entrance of Gotham’s newest nightclub. He knew it was a front for Mad Hatter, but he still needed hard evidence. To his side sat Cassandra, watching intently with him. He thought it would be a good idea to give her some one on one mentoring, outside of the team. She was the youngest, after all, and he wanted to keep her close after everything that had happened with the League Of Shadows. Working with her like this had shown him a few things, such as the fact that she was more like him than even Damian. Her mannerisms, taste in music, food, and how she dealt with criminals. It all reminded him of himself. Some nights, he had even caught her repeating things he had said in the past.

“Still with me?” He asked, noticing her dozing off. She giggled a bit and nodded, then readjusted her position in an attempt to stay alert. He noticed her pulling something out of her belt and peek at it, a note of some sort. She quickly slipped it back in, and he wondered what it must have been. She couldn’t read, after all, so it must have been a picture. She had been missing Stephanie and Tim, so maybe a photo of them? Regardless, they were here for a reason. He pulled his binoculars up again and took another look at the club’s entrance. Still nothing.

It was a few minutes later that he felt something, or rather someone, fall into his side. Looking over, he saw Cassandra, fast asleep against him. Smiling gently, he wrapped his cape around her and let her rest. All of his sons had done this in the past, so he wasn’t surprised to find another teenager doing the same. But then he noticed the piece of paper in her hand. She had been looking at it again. His curiosity got the better of him, and he slid it out of her grip and took a look as she snuggled into him.

Unfolded, it seemed to be a letter, addressed to him. A thank you, for saving her. He thought back to the night they first met, when he had told her that she could be a hero, that she didn’t have to be who her father had tried to make her into. When he had become the first person to hug her, to show her true compassion. When he had saved her soul. Beneath the shaky, chicken scratch letters was a drawing. It was of a figure, with a cape and cowl not unlike his own. The cowl, however, had it’s mask stitched shut, like Cassandra’s. The symbol was his own, but the costume was black rather than grey. He smiled softly, and slipped the paper back into Cassandra’s utility belt.

He picked her up, careful not to wake her, and walked back to the batmobile. Nothing was happening that night, and he could always come back the next. For now, a young girl needed a soft bed to sleep in, and he was only happy to give her that, and hopefully more. When they pulled into the cave, she began to stir, but she quickly fell asleep again. He brought her up to a spare bedroom, pulled off her mask, and let her sleep.

—

When she climbed out of bed in the morning, Cassandra was confused. She didn’t recognize her surroundings, but she did recognize the butler who offered her a change of clothes and a plate of breakfast. He was Batman’s butler, and when she saw her mentor, dressed in his civilian clothes, she understood. It was his home, far bigger than the studio she lived in, or Harper’s apartment.

“You fell asleep last night, so I figured I’d give you a more comfortable place to sleep,” Bruce explained.

She tried to apologize, but he told her she didn’t have to. That he had something he wanted to ask her. He was nervous, and she could tell, no matter how much he tried to hide it.

“I’d like for you to stay here,” he said, looking at her and offering a gentle smile. “To be part of my family. You deserve more than you’ve been given, Cassandra. You deserve a normal life, outside of our line of work. If you’d let me, I’d like to provide that for you.”

“You saved me…” she whispered, just barely loud enough for him to hear. Before he could respond, she wrapped her arms around him and held on tight, crying happily into his chest. He thought that she saved herself, but he didn’t say it. Instead he held her tighter, and when she pulled away, he told her that he had an idea for her costume.

“How would you like to make a few alterations?” He asked. The smile she gave him was all the answer he needed.


End file.
